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DONALD WHERE'S YOUR TROOSERS?
By
Andy Stewart
I've just come down
From the Isle of Skye
I'm no very big and I'm awful shy
And the lassies shout when I go by
Donald, where's your troosers?
Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I'll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where's your troosers?
A lassie took me to a ball
And it was slippery in the hall
And I was feared that I would fall
For I had nae on my troosers?
Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I'll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where's your troosers?
Now I went down to London Town
And I had some fun in the underground
The ladies turned their heads around
Saying, Donald, where are your trousers?
Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I'll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where's your troosers?
To wear the kilt is my delight
It is not wrong I know it's right
The Highlanders would get a fright
If they saw me in the trousers?
Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I'll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where's your troosers?
The lassies want me every one
Well, let them catch me if they can
You canna take the breaks
Of a Highland man
And I don't wear the troosers
Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I'll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where's your troosers?
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WHEN DONALD LOST HIS TROOSERS
(Trump the World Traveller hits the Highlands!)
Well I'd flown in
From Washington,
To Balmedie in old Scotland,
To see a golf course that I own,
Try a whisky or two!
I told the hotel's stylist lass,
"I want a full spray tan that lasts,
She said: "Aye sir, but might I ask
Ye to take doon your troosers?"
Well I had on no underwear,
(I like to be well-aired 'down there')
So underneath I was full-on bare,
Still I agreed, "Let's do it!"
But, shortly, someone yelled: "Oh, my!
Get out! the hotel is on fire!"
What made the whole thing truly dire?
Hell, I was still butt naked!
Well, I blindly ran
Through here, through there,
Through noisy streets,
I knew not where,
With nary a virus mask to wear,
Hell, I'd kill for some trousers!
I only had a small hand-towel,
"Hurry, get me some clothes!" I howled,
The Scottish lasses rudely yelled: "Wow!
Donald's, lost his troosers!"
Then the wind blew high
Then the wind blew low,
Through my yellow hair,
(Goin' bald below),
Those gigglin' lasses yelled: "Hello!
"Donald's got nae troosers!"
Then the wind blew higher
Then my hair blew freer,
The whole town howled,
"Hey, Donald's here!"
Their wanton lasses yelled: "Oh dear,
Don's still got nae troosers!"
I was not shy that I was bare,
Just angry with my ornery hair,
Coils of it snaked everywhere,
Like Medusa the Gorgon's!
Still the wind went high,
Still the wind went low,
And me with all
My goods on show,
If you read about it though,
It's all fake news, you losers!
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